


the strength of your restraint

by giidas



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anal Sex, Biting, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fingering, Immortal Husbands, Insecurity, Introspection, Jealousy, M/M, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, POV Alec Lightwood, POV Magnus Bane, Possessive Behavior, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Security, Top Magnus Bane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 02:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giidas/pseuds/giidas
Summary: Five times Magnus has a hard time watching people flirt with / at Alec without setting them on fire and the One time Alec tells him just how much he appreciates his restraint.Or does he?





	the strength of your restraint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annabane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabane/gifts).

> The SkyLive is a real thing! nothing else in this fic is. Although I do wish I had a holodesk, how cool would that be.
> 
> Prompted by and gifted to the wonderful Anna (annabane) - hope you enjoy <3 !
> 
> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/giidass) or [tumblr](https://giidas.tumblr.com/), if you like.

1.

Magnus strolls into the Institute, a coffee cup in each hand.

He felt like walking today and since the call from Alec wasn’t urgent, he chose to indulge. He got himself a hot chocolate and drank it on his way over the Brooklyn Bridge, enjoying the sharp winter sun, the cold wind biting his cheeks.

He stopped by Marion’s coffee shop, knowing that Alec loves her magically roasted beans, always makes this absolutely sinful sound when he takes his first sip of her coffee.

He’s about to knock on Alec’s door when he hears the voice from inside.

He can’t help the face he makes. _ Mats _ is here.

Magnus thinks back and is sure this must be the fifth time this month alone that the Stockholm Institute needed the help from the New York one, or well, from Alec specifically.

And somehow, Mats is always the one to be sent here.

He takes a deep breath, places one of the coffee cups in the crook of his elbow, makes sure his face reflects none of his inner thoughts, and knocks.

“Magnus?” comes Alec’s voice from inside. Magnus opens the door and the fake smile on his face turns genuine. Alec is rising from his chair, eyes only on Magnus.

“Hello,” Magnus greets him, making sure not to use any of the usual pet names he so loves. Alec narrows his eyes at him, but doesn’t stop his purposeful walk until he is in Magnus’ personal space. Magnus stands frozen, both coffees in one hand, the other hanging stiffly by his side.

“For me?” Alec asks, pointing at one of the coffees, eyes bright and crinkling at the corners when he sees Marion’s logo on the paper cup.

“Of course,” Magnus tells him, handing one over. Alec puts his fingers over Magnus’, keeping them there for a second longer than strictly necessary, holding eye contact with Magnus, searching his face.

“Thank you,” he says before he leans in, placing a soft kiss on Magnus’ lips.

_ Someone _ clears their throat.

Alec ends the chaste but very much appreciated kiss, but only leans back a scant inch, only takes one breath before leaning back in and kissing Magnus one more time. He’s smiling when he finally lets Magnus go, turns around and walks back to his desk.

“Now that we have you here, and thank you for coming on such short notice,” Alec says, motioning for Magnus to sit down in one of the chairs, “the Stockholm Institute wanted to discuss the set up of our wards as they’ve had some trouble with theirs being breached in the past.”

Magnus nods, looking from Alec to Mats, who’s leaning his hip against Alec’s desk like he belongs there. His hair is annoyingly blond, Magnus thinks to himself, something he heard even Jace remark upon. He’s always been in short sleeves when Magnus had the dubious pleasure of seeing him, his runes and muscles on display. He’s taller than Magnus, taller than Alec even, only slightly, but still. Alec has to tilt his head up just so to look at him. 

Magnus tries not to make his scrutiny of the man too obvious, but judging by the smirk on said man’s face, he doesn’t succeed. 

“Well, _ Mats_,” Magnus addresses the man, taking a sip of his coffee before he continues, “I’d be happy to look over the wards on your Institute, for my standard hourly fee, of course.”

“Of course,” Mats says in his irritatingly accentless English, “but as I told Alexander,” he pauses and turns, putting his hand on Alec’s shoulder. Magnus tries to hide his flinch. “I was interested in the Institute’s side of things here, more than in the Warlock who set the wards up.”

Magnus keeps eye contact with him and can’t help but wonder if Alec finds his blue-green eyes beautiful. He looks away first.

Alec’s chair is pushed a little to the side and he’s looking at Magnus.

“And as I told you before,” Alec says, voice unusually cold, “the wards have been set up before I or even my sister were appointed and I haven’t found any paperwork about them in the Archives, so if you want to know more, you’ll have to discuss it with Mr. Lightwood-Bane.”

Alec looks pointedly at Magnus and then back at Mats, who keeps his expression entirely too jovial for Magnus’ liking.

“Of course, Alexander,” Mats tells Alec, his voice soft. Magnus studies his coffee cup, the cauldron on it suddenly the most intriguing thing. When Alec clears his throat, he looks up at him, seeing that Alec is standing up and walking by Mats, who places his hand on Alec’s lower back and lets it linger there for as long as Alec’s in reach.

Something surges deep inside Magnus, something ancient and possessive, and Magnus pushes it back with the next swallow of his coffee.

He is not this person. He’s here in a professional capacity, he’s here to do a job and he will not let a blond _ child _ rile him up.

He looks up at Alec who’s standing by his chair now, looking down at him. His coffee sits forgotten on his desk. Magnus didn’t even get to hear that fabulous sinful noise.

“Mr. Johansson,” Magnus looks at Mats, “would you like to discuss the theory of the wards first, or would you like me to show you how the specific protection spells are layered as I explain?” Magnus asks him, getting up from his chair as well, letting the piece of furniture separate him from Alec.

Mats seems to consider his options, looking from Magnus to Alec, “I think the practical demonstration would work best, what do you think, _ Alexander_?” he almost purrs. Magnus carefully doesn’t react, keeps his eyes on Mats and waits.

“Whatever best meets your needs,” Alec says, and Magnus wants to groan, because _ oh Alec_.

“Oh, I can think of better ways my needs would be met, but that would best be discussed in private,” Mats shoots back, winking at Alec.

Magnus turns around, flings the door of the office open with his magic. When it bounces back from the wall, he can’t help a slight wince.

He is a _ professional_.

“Please, follow me,” he tells the two men.

2.

Magnus is sitting by the bar, chatting with Maia, when he notices her eyes narrow on something behind him.

He raises an eyebrow in question, sipping his drink.

“That Fredrick guy is getting awfully cosy with Alec,” she tells him, keeping her voice low, her eyes somewhere over Magnus’ shoulder still.

Ah, Frederick. He’s a new transfer from somewhere in Europe, Magnus didn’t get a chance to find out from where exactly. They’ve had a lot of new transfers coming in to the New York Institute, which is the reason why they’re all here. Well, why the _ Shadowhunters _ are here this evening. Team bonding, Isabelle called it, mouth turning up at the corner. She told him in no uncertain terms that his attendance was mandatory as well.

He was sitting next to Alec, listening in on the conversations around him when Maia nodded at him and motioned to the round ready on the bar. The place was packed, and Magnus was happy to save her the journey through the crowd. He moved his hand from its spot on Alec’s thigh, pushing away from himself with both hands and then snapping them back. Their empty glasses vanished, the new round of drinks on their table instead. It was nothing he hasn’t done dozens of times before, but when he looked up, he saw the faces of the new additions to the Institute.

Trepidation. Dread.

Magnus cleared his throat and got up, weaving his way through the crowd to join Maia.

He assumes his empty spot is now occupied by wide eyed Frederick, who looks at Alec as if he hung the moon, as if his every word was gospel. To be fair, he looks that way at Isabelle, too. He doesn’t touch Isabelle’s forearm to get her attention, he doesn’t look at her through his lashes and bite his lip when she talks to him, though, Magnus thinks.

Magnus tries to take another sip of his drink, realizes his glass is empty. He snaps his fingers, filling it back up.

Maia waves a hand in front of his face, looks at him with an incredulous expression.

“My apologies, Maia,” Magnus says, and puts another bill in her tip jar, “I forgot where I was, it appears.”

“Yeah, you don’t say,” she tells him, eyebrows drawn together, “they’re giving you looks, too, the new ones?”

Magnus puts on his most seductive smile and motions to himself, from head to toe, “Of course they are, but then, who can blame them?”

Maia rolls her eyes and raises an eyebrow.

Magnus doesn’t deflate, but it is a near thing. He’s talking to the Alpha of the New York pack, this is not just another bartender listening to his woes. Maia knows him, and he knows her. They’re friends, he’d dare say.

“Let’s say they were a little surprised when their drinks appeared in front of them out of thin air,” Magnus tells her, keeping his voice amused still.

“And by surprised you mean freaked the fuck out?” she shoots back, “Because I’ve seen the way they look at my scars, I’ve seen the knowledge of just _ what _ I am dawn on them,” her voice is hard and cold, and Magnus notices the way she uses the word _ what _ instead of _ who_.

Because that’s how they see them and they both know it.

It will change with time, of course. These are new recruits, Shadowhunters straight from training, some have never seen an actual Warlock ever before, or had the chance to interact with a werewolf outside of battle situations.

Someone knocks into him, sloshing Magnus’ drink all over his hand and sleeve.

“Frederick,” Magnus says, voice betraying his surprise at seeing the young man.

“Gods, I’m sorry Mr. Lightwood-Bane, let me--” his cheeks are tinged with red and he’s grabbing napkins, patting them on Magnus’ hand, on his sleeve. Magnus is frozen, unable to move, his eyes tracking the napkins, seeing pieces of the tissue paper getting stuck in his rings, leaving white residue on his dark shirt sleeve. He hears Maia laugh, the sound startling both him and Frederick, who finally looks up, his face now beet red, “I’m really sorry, _ merde, c’est pas le manière dans lequel je voulais me présenter_,” he says under his breath, looking away.

Before he can respond, Magnus feels a hand on his lower back, feels it settle there, proprietary.

“Frederick, what are you doing to my husband?” Alec asks, pressing his body to Magnus’ side.

The boy looks about ready to expire from embarrassment, and Magnus decides to be magnanimous. He turns, angling his body so that he can see Alec, so that Alec’s full attention is on his face, and then waves his fingers, cleaning and drying his shirt and getting rid of the napkins.

“Frederick was just getting himself another drink, Alexander,” Magnus tells his husband. Alec raises an eyebrow, looks at Frederick.

The boy, well, young man, Magnus would guess, is still red and now caught in Alec’s gaze, he seems unable to move or look away.

“Gods, you’re both so hot,” he says, and then slaps his hand over his mouth, eyes impossibly wide. Magnus tilts his head, trying to hide a smile, and looks at Alec.

Alec is looking at the table full of young Shadowhunters, watching them all attempt to hide their laughter.

“Truth potion, I assume?” Magnus asks the poor boy, who mumbles something unintelligibly under his hand and nods.

“I’m going to murder someone, I swear,” he hears Alec say under his breath before he looks at Magnus, “do you have an antidote at home?”

At Magnus’ nod, he waits a little, and when he sees Magnus is not summoning the potion, connects the dots and realizes the potion is not to be transported magically. He sighs.

“Frederick,” he turns once more to the boy, “you’re going to have to come home with us,” when he hears Maia snicker and Frederick’s eyes widen, he goes over his words and makes the decision to not acknowledge that particular slip and ploughs on, “Magnus will give you the antidote and send you back to the Institute.”

Then he turns to the table full of laughing Shadowhunters, points a finger at them and raises his voice to be heard over the crowd, “Everyone, this bunch is paying for all your drinks tonight!”

Magnus is quite sure he hears Frederick say _ je l’aime tellement_, but for the sake of everyone’s sanity, he pretends he doesn’t.

3.

Magnus knows he volunteered Pandemonium for this mission slash training exercise, and he doesn’t regret it, not just yet. The Shadowhunters, usually covered in runes, are blending in with the crowd so well tonight that even Magnus himself sometimes has trouble recognizing them.

Isabelle, in all her wisdom, has taught both the boys and girls how to hide their runes with makeup, so that at first glance, they appear as Mundanes. Of course, any Downworlder worth their salt will know they are Nephilim sooner rather than later, but in a life or death situation, every second, every little hesitation counts.

This exercise, he knows, is not just about blending in with your surroundings or learning how to move in a crowd of people without knocking into anyone - Mundanes are quite good at dismissing things, but bump into them while invisible one too many times, and they will notice something is amiss - but also about learning the art of seduction, of gaining someone’s trust with little touches and looks and then getting information out of them.

Magnus has been sprawled on his throne, as Alec calls it, catching up with his Pandemonium team. He loves his club, loves to see it thrive under Lyra’s care. He trusts her and pays her handsomely, knows that in this business, and underpaid manager is a manager who can ruin a club in under six months.

Lyra pats him on the shoulder as she leaves his side, returning to her office behind the bar. Magnus follows her progress through the dancing crowd, and when she slips behind the bar, let’s his eyes linger on the people there.

His eyes recognize Alec’s back immediately. 

Alec’s arms are bare, runes covered by makeup, and the image he makes is startling. 

Magnus wants to scratch a finger through the makeup, wants to ruin it.

He follows Alec’s gaze and sees a man leaning against the bar, his lips moving, eyes roving over Alec’s face and body. He’s handsome, Magnus thinks in a detached way, in his mid-forties if the slight grey in his hair is any indication, but his expression speaks of youthful mischief and flirtatiousness. He takes a drink of his beer, keeping his eyes on Alec as he swallows.

Magnus’ cannot see Alec’s reaction to the man running a finger down the back of his hand, can’t see if his pupils dilate like they do when it’s Magnus touching him in that way. He is aware that this is precisely the point of the exercise, to be able to fake these reactions so well the mark won’t _ know _ they’re faked, but he can’t help the queasiness in his stomach, can’t help the sudden coldness that seeps into his bones.

He has no reason to mistrust Alec, knows he’s being unfair, but the rational part of his mind can’t quite convince the rest of it.

The man’s smile turns downright predatory when Alec steps a little closer to him, leans his head down to say something into his ear. Alec’s left hand is on the man’s forearm.

The lack of a ring on his finger has Magnus swallowing heavily, turning away.

That’s when he notices Isabelle sitting next to him, studying him.

“You’re awfully easy to read when you think no one’s watching you,” she tells him, voice not unkind.

“Is that so,” he asks his drink, pretending to study his nail polish.

“You know this is just an-”

“Isabelle, please don’t insult me,” Magnus says, and only her startled expression makes him realize just what sort of a tone he used, the way he just sounded. He shakes his head, looks at her once more.

“I apologize,” he makes sure to let the sincerity ring through his voice, “I think I should switch to water,” he looks at his martini glass, makes it disappear, “or maybe go home.”

“Magnus,” Isabelle says, voice gentle, and puts her small hand on his.

“Oh, it’s nothing, my dear, just feeling a little bit under the weather,” he smiles, patting her hand. She considers him, eyes searching his expression. He knows she knows he’s lying, and damn those Lightwoods for being so good at reading him, damn their eyes and their trustful expressions that make him want to be as honest as they always appear to be.

She doesn’t say anything, let’s them both pretend that Magnus is not affected by what’s happening at the bar, that he’s as suave and aloof and detached as he makes sure to appear to the outside world.

He leans in to kiss her cheek.

“Tell Alec I’ll be waiting for him at home, if he looks for me.”

He gets up and walks away from her, thinks he hears a _ he’ll look for you, he’s always looking for you, _but he’s already opening a portal in the little space behind his throne and stepping through.

4.

He’s at the Institute to pick Alec up for dinner when the alarms go off. The flurry of organized chaos that follows is something he’s seen before but hasn’t had a chance to get used to quite yet. He thinks he sees Isabelle’s head of hair and follows in the direction of where it disappeared.

He sees Mats before he notices Alec.

He doesn’t groan, but it’s a near thing.

They’re all gathered by the main holographic desk, studying a map of the city and the red dots appearing all over.

There is an empty space on Jace’s left, so Magnus joins them, nods his head at Jace and then at Clary, who waves at him. Jace turns his head slightly.

“Unusual demonic activity all over the city. No rifts, they’re just popping up out of nowhere, in regular intervals, ever since this morning. We’ve been on Level 4 since 7 in the morning.”

Well, that explains the lack of texts from Alec. Magnus was busy himself, was out of New York for most of the day, actually, so he hasn’t had time to check in either.

He looks through the holograph at where Mats’ hand is on Alec’s and reminds himself that he is an 800 year old Warlock fully in control of his powers. He is a _ professional _ and he will _ not _ set that infuriating man on fire in the middle of an Institute.

He is not jealous.

He is enraged by that man’s _ audacity_.

That’s when he sees Alec look up, sees his expression change from concentration to relief. He looks at Jace, tilts his head slightly, and in three short seconds, Jace and Alec have switched places.

“Hey,” Alec says softly, taking Magnus’ hand.

“Hello,” Magnus greets him, squeezing his fingers.

“I forgot about dinner,” Alec says, corners of his mouth pulled down in an adorable frown.

“Jace filled me in. Anything I can do to help?”

Alec nods, “We’ve reached out to the High Warlock,” and Magnus can _ hear _ the air quotes, even though Alec doesn’t actually do the gesture, “but he is _ too busy _ to deal with some _ pesky demons_,” Alec adds, voice dangerously low.

Magnus raises his eyebrows.

He knew Lorenzo was after the title just for the title’s sake, knows that he is within his rights to reuse to help with Shadowhunter business, but Magnus wonders if he doesn’t realize that these small petty refusals of help will one day bite him in the ass.

“Magnus,” Isabelle says from the other side of the desk, “we could really use your help.”

“Of course, what can I do?”

“I have a feeling--” Isabelle pauses, eyebrows drawn together, “everything about this is too neat, too orderly, _ scheduled _. The demons appear in regular intervals, always in a different place,” she pauses to manipulate the hologram, which now shows a startling mix of differently colored dots. “See these, now watch,” and she rotates each set of matching coloured dots until they all align perfectly.

“Well, that’s impressive,” Magnus has to acknowledge. Jace snorts.

“But a pain in the ass - we know _ when _ they will appear, but we don’t know _ where_,” he says.

Magnus has a couple of ideas and sends a Shadowhunter in training for something covered in ichor from one of the slain demons. He runs through a series of spells, his suspicions being confirmed after the fourth one. He’s not sure if what he has to say is good or bad news.

“Due to the particular alignment of the planets and stars, once every couple of centuries the veil between the realms gets so thin it’s basically nonexistent,” Magnus starts and hears Jace, who apparently understood the implication of what he just said the fastest, groan. He sees Isabelle close her eyes and Alec hang his head. Clary and Mats are the only ones still waiting for the rest of the story. Jace beats Magnus to it.

“We have to wait it out. Once the planets move out of alignment, the veil will return to its usual strength,” he looks at Magnus, waiting for his nod of confirmation.

“Do we know how long that’s gonna take?” Alec asks him.

“You said it started at 7?” he looks to Jace, who nods, “May I?” he motions to the holo and after Isabelle’s nod, gets rid of the projection of New York, opens a browser and searches for SkyLive and their online planetarium. The wonders of modern technology. A hundred years ago he would have had to-- He shakes his head, focuses back on the task at hand. After some quick calculations, he checks the alignment of the planets and leaves the view of the night sky from New York on the holo.

“Six more hours,” he tells the group gathered at the table.

“So, two or three more of these, then,” Mats says, and Magnus nods.

“We better join the already dispatched teams, some of them will need to be relieved soon,” Isabelle says and looks around the table, Magnus would guess to try and assign them in pairs to a team that’s already patrolling. Her eyes sweep over them and she must reconsider.

“Let’s just all six of us go together,” she brings back the map of New York, looks at the areas with the biggest concentration of dots, points to one and looks at Magnus, who nods and opens a portal. He’s waiting for everyone to pass through before he goes himself, notices Alec taking his time too, sees Mats approach him.

“I’ve never been to where we’re going, can I portal with you?” he says and links their arms together.

Alec‘s mouth is slightly open, eyes on where their arms are hooked together. He looks up at Magnus, face the picture of absolute confusion.

“But the portal goes dire--”

“Let’s go then,” Mats says, and drags Alec through.

Magnus takes a deep breath, torn between laughing at the absolute ridiculousness of what he just witnessed and the indignation of watching his husband be manhandled like that by what amounts to a stranger.

He takes a deep breath, and steps through the portal.

5.

Magnus is strengthening the wards at the Institute, allowed to move through the place without a full Shadowhunter escort, but he can’t shake the feeling that he is still being watched.

He looks around at the empty corridor. Ah yes, the side corridor leading to the Archives, not one that sees a lot of foot traffic. Also the one with the ever present draft.

He doesn’t see anyone, doesn’t feel anyone with his magic.

He continues his task, knows he’s about halfway through, that he still has about two hours of carefully reapplying the protection spells. It’s not exhausting so much as it is mind-numbingly boring. He’s been doing this for centuries which makes him think - he really should look into a way to make wards more permanent, maybe he could set them up in a way where they would recharge from the Angelic core--

Magnus has reached the training room and his thoughts are rudely interrupted by two figures in full battle mode. He recognizes Alec instantly, his body and his movements almost as familiar as if they were his own. He doesn’t recognize the other Shadowhunter. At least it’s not Mats, Magnus can’t help but think.

When he sees most of Alec’s runes are activated, as are the other man’s, that fact and the lack of sweat on their t-shirts indicate that they must have just started, which explains why they don’t stop when they see Magnus. He knows they are aware of his presence and he also knows that Alec’s competitiveness won’t let him hesitate or pause to greet Magnus, as that would give an opening to his opponent.

He continues with his task, by rote, while keeping an eye on the two fighters.

They appear to be just about the same height, the other man slightly thinner than Alec, his upper body less muscled, but judging by the hits Magnus sees almost land, no less strong. He’s limber, too, dodging Alec’s hands and feet with practised ease, with elegance, even.

They pause briefly some fifteen minutes later, each getting a drink, and Alec turns in Magnus’ direction, sends him a smile.

When they get into position again, the other Shadowhunter is shirtless.

Magnus abandons all pretense of ward strengthening and leans against a column to watch the dance that follows.

He’s no slouch himself, he trains and works out and keeps in shape, has centuries of experience that tell him his magic is at its best when his _ body _ is at its best. However, there is a difference between a skill acquired centuries ago, rarely used, and this sort of dance, a dance learned from an early age, practised every single day with the full knowledge that it is a dance that might one day mean the difference between life and death.

They make a beautiful pair, Magnus thinks as he watches his husband and the nameless man fight, it’s quite unfair just how beautiful actually. He’s been thinking lately, if being exceptionally attractive is a prerequisite for becoming a Shadowhunter. Then again, maybe it is the hint of Angelic Blood running through their veins that gives all Nephilim this unfair advantage. He watches the play of muscles on the man’s back and can’t help but think back to the one time he and Alec trained together here. 

Can’t help but wonder if they made as striking a picture as these two do.

There’s something squeezing his stomach, his heart, as he thinks about Alec if he hadn’t met Magnus. He might have married Lydia, yes, but he also could have found a Shadowhunter, a male one, to fall in love with, to _ grow old _ with. Magnus thinks back to Mats and his advances, to Frederick and his obvious crush, to all the other times he saw someone watching Alec with that particular considering glint in their eyes.

He knows Alec was closeted before their spectacularly public first kiss. He also knows Alec is _ not _ subtle, which makes him think a lot of people knew about him, and just never said anything. He’s had it sort of confirmed by Jace, by a couple of remarks he made here and there, about someone hitting on Alec and him being oblivious to it, or dismissing advances as just friendly banter. It made Magnus wonder how many hearts Alec broke without even realizing, how many times a pair of sad eyes followed him as he left the room.

He wonders if they now look at Magnus, and find him lacking; if they think Alec could have found someone better suited for him, someone who wouldn’t threaten his career just by being who they are.

Alec lands a particularly hard hit, making the other man grunt and bringing Magnus back from his dark thoughts.

Magnus thinks back to the first time they officially met, the way Alec smiled at him, expression open and _ joyous _, and how something in Magnus shattered, his heart beating wildly for a second. He thinks back to Alec offering himself up to save Luke, reaching his hand out to Magnus, no hesitation, no fear in his eyes. He thinks about the way Alec braced him as he healed Luke, the way he caught him when Magnus fell back, exhausted. The way Alec couldn’t keep his eyes off him as he strode down that aisle, how he took Magnus by the lapels and kissed him like Magnus was his saving grace. He thinks about the way Alec’s eyes light up when he sees Magnus, his whole expression softening, lips pulling into a smile. He thinks about the way Alec will go soft and pliant underneath him, giving himself over to Magnus, and the way he’ll take charge, manhandling Magnus and allowing him to let go.

“Hey,” Alec says, startling Magnus out of his thoughts once more.

“Hello,” Magnus says, reaching for Alec’s hand, letting Alec twine their fingers together.

“You were far away,” Alec tells him, searching his face. Magnus chuckles.

“No, actually, I was right here,” and he knows his voice is too soft, his eyes and expression betraying all his emotions, but who else should he allow himself to be vulnerable with, if not Alec.

Alec puts a hand on his neck and pulls him close, kisses him, slow and hot. Magnus can’t help the moan, can’t help the way his body gravitates to Alec’s.

“Take me home?” Alec whispers into the space between their lips.

Magnus is more than happy to oblige.

+1

They tumble through the portal, and Alec just wants to-- knowing that Magnus was watching him made the training session _ really _ difficult. He kept flashing back to Magnus and his flirting, when they trained together that one time, to his fluid movements, the way his muscles danced under his skin. _ Fuck _.

Alec notices that Magnus is trying to gentle the kiss, trying to pull away. He lets him, confused.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

Magnus hesitates before answering, which is enough for Alec to know something _ is _ wrong.

“Magnus, what is it?” he tries again, searching his husband’s face. _ His husband _, Alec thinks, happiness bubbling in his stomach still.

“I kept thinking,” Magnus says, “if we never met, you could’ve-”

“Magnus,” Alec stops him, knows Magnus sometimes loses himself in the what ifs, lets them torture him, “but we did,” he finishes his thought.

“Yes, we did,” Magnus agrees, a barely there smile on his lips, “you and the other man made quite the striking pair, though,” he adds, looking at Alec, eyes running over his face.

“We did?” he knows Thomas is tall and leanly muscled, knows he has skill, and Alec can see that he’s attractive, but he never would have-- “Were you jealous?” he asks, knows he can’t hide the delight in his voice.

Magnus rolls his eyes.

“Not precisely, no,” he says.

“Y’know, you’re not as sneaky as you think you are,” Alec tells him, raising one eyebrow, “I know you can’t stand Mats - don’t worry, you hide it well, I don’t think anyone besides us can tell - and I see the way you--” he tries to find the right words, “ever since that exchange about Underhill, you’ve been-- careful,” Alec settles on.

Magnus tilts his head, expression slightly confused, “Careful?”

“Careful not to show it,” Alec fills in, “like when Mats touches me? You have this look in your eyes, for just a second, and then you’re the epitome of professionalism, back ramrod straight, head held high, and you-” Alec wonders if Magnus noticed this, if he does it on purpose even, “-you don’t touch me, you don’t try to stop _ him _ from touching me.”

He knows his voice is weak by the end of the sentence, that he’s looking somewhere over Magnus’ shoulder, playing with one of the buttons on Magnus’ vest.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Magnus tells him, voice a little baffled, “And I truly didn’t think you’d want me to interfere.”

Alec mulls it over, and then just says what’s on his mind, “I don’t,” he looks back at Magnus, makes eye contact, “but I also do,” it’s been warring inside of him, the way he appreciates Magnus letting him handle it, Magnus not making a scene at the Institute, not even mentioning it at home either, knowing that it’s just-- that Alec would _ never-- _

That trust is something that Alec strives to deserve, to never betray.

But then he sees the minute flash of _ something _ in Magnus’ eyes and he goes hot all over, all the rational thought leaving his brain, and he _ craves _ Magnus’ loss of control, wants him to make sure no Mats, no _ anyone _ can ever touch Alec again, just him, just _ Magnus_. 

His breathing is shorter, and he’s leaning closer to Magnus now, like he’s being pulled in by an invisible force.

“Next time,” Alec murmurs, moving his lips by Magnus’ ear, making sure his every exhale tickles over the sensitive skin, “next time? Stake your claim.”

Magnus’ fingers dig into his forearm and he pulls away slightly, looking into Alec’s eyes, letting them rove over his face. Alec feels the gaze like a physical touch. And then Magnus puts a hand on his neck, tilting Alec’s head down a little bit, angling it just so.

“Do you want that?” he asks, not giving Alec time to respond, “Do you want me to claim you, to show everyone you’re mine, _ just _ mine to touch and to please, to make love to, to _ fuck _,” Alec can’t help the small moan that escapes him, Magnus’ lips moving over his with every word, close enough to tease but not close enough to kiss, not with Magnus’ hand on his neck, keeping him still. He grabs at Magnus’ waist, other hand clutching the front of his vest.

“Do you want that, Alexander,” Magnus repeats and a breathy _ yes _ is leaving Alec’s lips before he knows it.

“I think,” Magnus says, slipping his fingers under Alec’s t-shirt, running them over his stomach, making Alec suck in a hard breath.

“I think you deserve a reminder, don’t you?” Magnus asks and this time he waits for an answer, his fingers stilling on Alec’s stomach.

“Yeah, yes, please, _ fuck _ ,” because Alec has been _ dreaming _ about this, why hasn’t he said something sooner, gods he’s so-- Magnus presses him against their bedroom door, tilting Alec’s head up and dragging his lips over the rune etched on Alec’s neck.

“I’ll mark you up,” Magnus says against the sensitized skin. Alec arches into it, needing _ more _.

“I want to hear you say it, Alexander,” Magnus tells him, voice on its way to wrecked already, just as affected as Alec.

“Yes,” Alec says, can’t say anything but that, not when Magnus is so close, pressing into Alec, his breathing uneven, his magic sparkling over them both.

“I’ll mark you up so that they all know,” Magnus bites his earlobe, “since the ring on your finger is not enough, never enough.”

“_Magnus_,” Alec pleads.

“The way some of them look at you.” Magnus finally decides to take Alec’s t-shirt off, letting his fingers run over the exposed skin, pressing his body close once the t-shirt is gone, buttons of his vest digging into Alec’s skin.

“How,” Alec swallows, “how do they look at me.”

“Like they think they can _ have _ you,” Magnus says, voice low, tinged with something dark and thrilling. Alec waits for it, lets his head fall forward a little, nosing at Magnus’ temple, breathing in the familiar smell of his shampoo. He feels punch drunk, just from this, from Magnus pressing him into a door and keeping him there, telling him he’s _ his_.

“And can they,” Alec breaks and asks, fingers digging into Magnus’ hips, anchoring himself, the both of them.

“No,” Magnus says and moves his head back, lets Alec see his cat eyes, the pink high in his cheeks, his expression that speaks of sin and ruin.

“Only you,” Alec tells him, sees Magnus’ expression darken a little bit more.

“Only me,” Magnus confirms, and finally pulls Alec closer, and closer still.

He doesn’t mess around anymore, licking into Alec’s mouth, slow but deep, one hand holding Alec’s head just how he wants it, the other sneaking up from Alec’s waist to his nipple, pinching it. Alec bucks his hips and then whines into the kiss when Magnus keeps pulling at his nipple, playing with it. Magnus breaks the kiss then, tilting Alec’s head back, latching onto his throat, licking up and stopping halfway, over his pulse point, sucking and biting. Alec can feel the blood rush to the surface, can feel the mark form as Magnus keeps worrying the spot with his tongue and teeth, the pleasure-pain of it making him moan.

“_Magnus_,” Alec begs when Magnus is working on the fourth or fifth mark. His knees feel like they will buckle at any moment, and his hips keep thrusting, searching for friction.

Magnus pulls away to look at Alec. His lips are puffy and red and Alec wants to _ devour _ him. Instead of kissing him, Magnus runs his thumb over Alec’s lips, lets Alec suck it inside.

“I thought I’d fuck you on the bed,” Magnus tells him, tone conversational, “but I’m fond of this door, what do you think.”

Alec’s mind is filled with images of Magnus holding him up, fucking into him, of turning him around and bending him over, snapping his hips hard, and he can’t do anything but moan around the thumb in his mouth.

Magnus gets rid of his vest and shirt, of his pants, with a snap of his fingers. The silky material of his underwear doesn’t have a chance of hiding the hard cock straining it. Magnus watches him as he looks, as he lets his eyes linger on Magnus’ arms, his stomach, his nipples. He presses into Alec, opening his mouth with a thumb and fucking his tongue in, swallowing Alec’s moans. Alec feels Magnus’ cock against his own, rocks into the contact, craving more friction. He can’t help but chase after Magnus when he moves away, biting at his bottom lip, _ needing _ more. Magnus moves back in, keeps Alec still with a hand in his hair. Alec moves, just to see if-- Magnus pulls, hard, and Alec makes a broken noise. Magnus pulls again, breaking the kiss, breathing hard against Alec’s lips.

“I’m going to turn you around,” Magnus tells him, “and I’ll open you up with my tongue. When your hole is wet and sloppy, I’ll give you my fingers,” Alec thinks he moans Magnus’ name at the picture that will make, Alec bent over just so, Magnus kneeling behind him, eating him out.

“I might even give you my cock, fuck you so you’ll feel it tomorrow, and the next day too,” Magnus’ fingers travel down his spine, over his sweatpants, and press in and in, the sweatpants making the press of fingers against his hole seem almost foreign, but no less thrilling.

“Would you like that,” Magnus asks him, keeps pressing his fingers just so, keeps Alec where he wants him with the other hand in his hair.

“Yes,” Alec hisses, “fuck, yes, _ yes_.”

The moment the last yes leaves his lips, Magnus’ hands are gone from his body, his chest no longer pressed to Alec’s, and Alec nearly slides down the door. Magnus steps back, hands flying to Alec’s hips.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, darling,” he says and Alec chuckles. Magnus did tell him he’s gonna turn him around, which is what he must have been planning. He leans in, brushing his lips against Magnus’.

“A kiss, and I’ll forgive you,” Alec tells him, voice ruined. He sees Magnus’ eyes crinkle at the corners before he closes his own, waiting.

Magnus places the softest and chastest kiss on his lips and pulls back. Alec opens his eyes to Magnus looking at him with mischief in his. Alec just keeps looking at him.

“Oh, not the sort of kiss you had in mind?” Magnus asks, fingers pressing into Alec’s sides, thumbs hooked into the waistband on his sweats.

Alec doesn’t get a chance to reply. Magnus’ hand leaves his side and is on Alec’s neck in an instant, thumb on his chin, and Alec thinks he’ll get to--

“Show me,” Magnus says, and Alec thinks, _ oh _. He gets both of his hands on Magnus’ neck, pulls him even closer, their bodies pressed together everywhere, Magnus’ necklaces digging into Alec’s skin.

He looks into Magnus’ eyes, stretching the moment, holding it for as long as he can, and then he says, “You’re mine.”

Magnus _ pounces_, there’s no other word for it.

His hands are all over Alec, fingers digging in, nails scratching. His mouth is on Alec’s neck, biting into one of the bruises that must be blooming there, but it’s moving frantically upwards until their lips meet, Magnus moaning like he’s _ hurt_. Alec feels like he’s going to shake apart from it, his own hands trying to find purchase on Magnus’ naked back, fingers pressing into the muscles. They’re rutting against each other, movements frenzied, and Alec decides to say bye to the plan Magnus presented earlier and drags his underwear down, gets two handfuls of that glorious ass, fingers digging into the meat of it.

That’s when Magnus puts his hands on Alec’s chest and pushes back, breaking them apart.

The sound of their breathing fills the air.

Magnus’ head is bent forward, his shoulders moving with each inhale and exhale, and Alec can’t take his eyes away from him.

“There was a plan,” Magnus says when he finally looks up. The makeup around his eyes is a little smudged, Alec notices as he runs his thumb gently over Magnus’ cheekbone. He tries to lean forward and Magnus allows it, elbows bending, palms staying pressed to Alec’s chest.

“We can change the plan,” he tells him.

Magnus pouts.

“But I _ liked _ the plan,” and he tilts his head the way he does sometimes, when he’s looking up at Alec, and only at Alec.

“I love you,” Alec can’t help but say, watches as Magnus’ whole face softens. Alec catches his hand, pulls it up and kisses the ring on it, then nuzzles into Magnus’ palm.

“And I love you,” Magnus affirms, voice tender and sweet, looking into Alec’s eyes.

“Glad we cleared that up.”

Magnus looks at him, incredulous, and then starts laughing. He has to lean his forehead against Alec’s shoulder for support, his whole body shaking with mirth.

“You’re such a dork,” he finally says, looking back up at Alec.

“A dork you love,” Alec points out.

“A dork I love,” Magnus allows. He keeps looking at Alec, searching his expression, and Alec lets the heat that’s filling his stomach show on his face, lets his hips move a little forward.

“Yeah?” Magnus asks, squeezing his palms where they’re holding Alec by the biceps.

“Mmm.” Alec bares his neck to Magnus once more, and Magnus takes it for the invitation it is. He can’t help the hiss that escapes him. The skin of his neck is beyond sensitized, every press of Magnus’ lips, every swipe of his tongue, every sucking kiss sending mixed signals into his whole body, pleasure and pain, pleasure and pain, pleasure and pain. Magnus digs his fingers into Alec’s ass, squeezing, pressing his hard cock right against Alec’s. The pleasure wins, as it always does, Magnus a master at walking the line and tipping them in the right direction.

Magnus places a soft kiss against Alec’s lips, pressing at his left hip.

“Turn around for me,” he directs, and Alec sees him flick his fingers and wonders.

Magnus doesn’t hesitate, the moment Alec is facing the door he’s pressed all along Alec’s back, necklaces once again pressing into his skin, making him arch his back, push his ass into Magnus’ crotch. Magnus runs his hand up Alec’s sides, presses them into his shoulders, and lets one run through his hair, pulling Alec’s head back, making him moan.

“Please,” Alec begs, “_Magnus_.”

“All in good time,” Magnus says against the back of Alec’s neck, and then starts biting his way down Alec’s spine, his hands splayed on Alec’s back, kneading each time he bites and sucks. Alec’s hands are in fists, his forearms braced against the door above his head, which he’s grateful for when Magnus bites and presses his fingers into a particularly sensitive spot on his lower back and Alec’s head falls forward, thumping against his forearm instead of the hard door.

And then he feels the hands and mouth finally reach the waistline of his sweats. Magnus must be kneeling now, and Alec has the great idea to maybe open his eyes and-- 

When he looks down, his breath catches. Magnus is kneeling between Alec’s spread legs, apparently sitting back on his haunches, his thighs spread slightly. His cock is hard and Alec’s mouth waters. His own cock is still covered by his sweats, but the hard line of it is unmistakable.

He shifts his hips a little, trying to imitate the wiggle Magnus does so well, and Magnus swats his ass.

“Patience,” he says, and Alec swears if he quotes one of those crazy movies he made him watch last week he’ll--

Magnus slides his hand inside Alec’s sweats instead of saying anything more, and Alec bucks his hips into the sudden pressure on his cock. Magnus jerks him off once, twice, and then cups his hand around the head of it, finally sliding the sweatpants down one handed. He lets Alec’s cock go when the waistline of the sweats reaches Alec’s mid thigh.

Why do they always forget about shoes, Alec thinks, looking down at his training boots.

Magnus is chuckling softly behind him and snaps his fingers, removing the rest of Alec’s clothes. Alec wiggles his toes in the carpet, spreads his feet a little more, pushes out his ass.

He hears Magnus hum in appreciation.

“They don’t get to see you like this,” Magnus says, running his fingers over the outside of Alec’s legs, from the ankle all the way up to his hips, “this is only for me.”

“Yes,” Alec confirms, because it is. _ He _ is.

“No one else gets to touch you like this,” Magnus says, kneading his hands into Alec’s asscheeks, spreading them, making Alec moan when his thumbs catch at his rim.

“No one else gets to lick you open,” Magnus says, and runs his tongue, flat and thick, over Alec’s hole. Alec pushes into the contact, forearms sliding on the door, breath leaving him in a harsh exhale.

“No one else gets to fuck you with their tongue,” he continues, licking at Alec’s rim, letting the tip of his tongue catch on it. He keeps doing just that, licking over the sensitive flesh, kneading his fingers into the meat of Alec’s ass, spreading him open, giving himself as much room as he needs. Alec’s knees are weak from just that, his cock hanging heavy between his legs. He doesn’t want to touch himself, wants to come on Magnus’ cock, buried deep inside him, with hot breath on the back of his neck, with dirty words whispered in his ear.

Magnus hooks one of his thumbs on his rim, opening him up and presses his tongue inside. He fucks it in and out, moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Alec bites into his forearm to stop himself from sobbing with it. He wants to see them, wants to see the picture they make. Him, barely standing, flushed all over, neck marked up, with Magnus on his knees, face buried in his ass, cock standing hard and proud against his abs. He moans against his arm, bucks his hips into the tongue licking into him, and swears he’ll ask Magnus for mirrors next time. The best he can do now is to turn his head and upper body around, and so he does, bracing one hand against the door. Magnus must feel him move because when Alec looks down, Magnus is ready, eyes on him. He puts a hand on Alec’s back, has him arch it a little more, giving Magnus a better angle and himself a much better view. Magnus makes sure to hold his eyes as he fucks in with his tongue, makes sure Alec sees the way his golden eyes roll back in pleasure. Alec has a mind to put his hand on Magnus’ head, hold him in place, make him eat Alec out for _ hours_. Magnus looks up then and must see something in Alec’s expression, because his hand takes Alec’s and places it on the back of his head. Alec’s fingers scratch at the short hair there, trying to find purchase, and then he feels Magnus’ hand over his, pressing, pushing Magnus’ face that much closer, that much deeper.

Alec’s every exhale is a moan now, his hips moving into Magnus’ face, trying to get that tongue deeper, and then he feels Magnus press in the first finger, feels it move and angle inside him--

“Fu--” the word is interrupted by a hitch in his breath as Magnus keeps licking into him alongside the finger. Alec lets go of Magnus’ head, slams a fist into the door.

“I’m-- Magnus, I--” he’s so close he can almost taste it and Magnus must feel the tension in his body, must hear the sob-like hitches in his breathing, because he stops his movements, softens his tongue and slowly licks out of Alec. Even that makes Alec’s hips jolt, makes him shiver all over and moan brokenly. Magnus gives him a second before he removes his finger.

Alec slumps against the door, breathing hard, feels the sweat between his shoulder blades cool.

Magnus stands up next to Alec, only placing one gentle hand on his lower back.

“Okay?”

Alec just nods, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, and Alec lets his shoulders slump a little bit and turns to look at him.

“Sorry,” Alec tells him, voice weak.

“Whatever for?” Magnus searches his expression, his own betraying his confusion.

“I ruined it,” he whispers, but Magnus is shaking his head, moving Alec with a hand on his shoulder so that they’re facing each other.

“You didn’t ruin a single thing,” Magnus tells him, palms on Alec’s neck and when Alec opens his mouth to protest, Magnus pushes closer to him, pressing their bodies together. Magnus’ cock is still hard, as is Alec’s. Magnus just raises his eyebrow.

“I ruined the plan,” Alec says, finally.

“Plans can change, darling. And I maintain,” he pauses, makes sure Alec is listening, “you ruined nothing, you merely pressed pause, and there is nothing wrong with that,” Magnus assures him.

“I’ve been on edge since you started talking,” Alec tells him, voice hushed, moving in close as if to kiss him, “I was this close, I--”

“Why did you stop me?” Magnus asks.

“Wanted to come on your cock,” Alec admits, watches Magnus’ mouth opens slightly, his eyelids go heavy with the image, “with you fucking into me, your chest pressed to my back, your voice whispering filthy things in my ear.”

And the thing is Alec is not shy about what he wants in the bedroom, but he rarely goes into such graphic detail. He sees Magnus swallow, feels his fingers dig into the back of Alec’s neck.

“That’s quite the image,” Magnus says, voice hoarse. Alec just nods, running his fingers over the skin of Magnus’ lower back, keeping their bodies close. And then he realizes Magnus is waiting for something.

“I still want it,” he says, “but maybe-- I think I’d-- I wanna see you, and I wanna kiss you when you fuck me,” he confesses. Then tilts his head, “I still want your voice saying filthy things though.”

Magnus’ eyes are like a physical touch again as he takes a step back, lets them travel all over Alec’s naked chest. His hands follow their own path, from Alec’s neck, over his shoulders, his biceps, his forearms until he twines their fingers behind his back and moves. He’s walking them to the bed, Alec realizes, the original plan no longer on his mind.

Magnus turns them around, waits for Alec to sit down but before he can push on his shoulder, Alec gets a better idea. He tilts his head, moving forward, and sucks the head of Magnus’ cock into his mouth, tonguing at the slit. Magnus’ hand is in his hair in a flash, anchoring him, and Alec lowers his mouth some more, taking more of it in, his hand slowly jerking what he can’t fit in at this angle.

Magnus is talking, Alec realizes.

“--at this, you look like sin with your mouth on my cock,” Magnus pauses, pulls Alec off of his cock by his hair, “and while I love you on your knees for me, swallowing my cock like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted,” he runs a thumb over Alec’s lips, “I think you had other demands?”

Alec leans his head back, lets his mouth hang open, his eyelids go heavy. He knows what picture he must make. He braces his arms behind himself, opens his legs a little, and watches Magnus watch him. He can’t help the self satisfied smile when Magnus’ magic sparkles around him. It doesn’t happen every time, Magnus for some reason doesn’t let himself have this too often, but oh when he _ does _, it’s beyond intoxicating.

Alec shuffles his way further up their bed and watches Magnus follow him on hands and knees. Alec settles down comfortably, hands reaching for Magnus who’s hovering above him.

“Hi,” Alec smiles at him, taking one of his hands, which is surrounded by blue magic, and bringing it up to kiss it. The magic tingles, runs invisible fingers over Alec’s lips.

“Hello,” Magnus says, small smile on his lips, and settles a little more of his weight on Alec, whose legs are already spread, waiting. Magnus leans in and kisses him, deep and thorough, moans reverberating through their chests. There’s a hand on Alec’s thigh, hitching it up, hooking it over Magnus’ waist. Two fingers, slippery, at his rim. Alec’s mouth falls open when they enter him, unable to focus on kissing for a moment. Magnus is breathing harshly into his mouth, rocking his own hips, delicious friction making even more sparks dance all over their bodies.

“Do you still want to feel me,” Magnus angles his fingers just so, making sure to hit Alec’s prostate on the next thrust in, “feel _ this _ tomorrow? The day after?”

Alec can do nothing but nod his head, thrust back into Magnus’ fingers when he scissors them. He wants all of it, he wants everything.

Magnus removes his fingers, slicks himself up and presses the head of his cock to Alec’s hole.

He looks at him, searches Alec’s expression. He leans in, kissing Alec again, uncoordinated, inelegant, teeth clashing and biting a little too harshly. Alec gives himself over to it, thrusting his tongue into Magnus’ mouth, biting back, and when Magnus finally pushes in, finally gives him the cock Alec’s been waiting for, he feels like sobbing with it.

Magnus stills when he’s fully inside and the pleasure pain is nothing short of delicious.

“Only I get to have you,” Magnus says, voice ruined, “only I get to have you like this.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me,” Magnus demands, and Alec sees something shift in his eyes that makes him press a palm to Magnus’ cheek, bring him in for another kiss, this one less frantic, more reassuring.

“I’m yours,” Alec tells him and then adds, “and you’re mine.”

“Yes,” Magnus says, “yours.”

“Magnus,” Alec looks at him, running his fingers slowly down his spine, “_please_.”

“Mmm,” Magnus hums against the skin of Alec’s throat, “I wish you could see yourself,” he tells Alec, “see the way you look at me, when we’re like this. It makes me want to--”

He stops himself from saying anything more, looks at Alec and pulls out almost all the way, pushing back in slowly, only slamming his hips the last inch or so. Alec whines, nails digging into Magnus’ back. Magnus keeps going like that, shifting his hips a little to maintain the angle, holding one of Alec’s legs by the back of the thigh, pushing it up and to the side, opening him up even more. They’ve-- Alec can barely think, the head of Magnus’ cock sliding over his prostate with every thrust. There’s magic dancing on their skin, amplifying everything, and Alec thinks he might just die from it.

“You always take it so well,” Magnus says before biting his earlobe, “you take my cock like you were made for it, it’s--” his thrusts are getting a little uneven now, and Alec does his best to push back into them.

“Yeah?” he manages to ask, wants to listen to this ruined voice forever. But Magnus just shakes his head a little, leans down to keep their faces close, and closes his eyes.

“No, please, I--” Alec wants to see them, always wants to see them, gets lost in the ethereal glow of that gold, in the way Magnus looks stripped naked, bared for only Alec to see.

Magnus opens his eyes, looks at Alec.

“Your eyes, please, I--”

The magic feels like electricity now, makes Alec’s back arch and Magnus’ next thrust land just so. Alec moans, fingers digging into the meat of Magnus’ ass.

“Harder, I need--” Alec manages to say, and Magnus knows, knows that sex is about the noises, about the smells and the visuals for Alec, that it goes beyond just insert body part here. Magnus stills, shifts so that he’s supported by his elbow, hand now able to reach Alec.

“Look at me,” Magnus tells him, gripping Alec’s hair, tugging at it just so, and then he pulls out an inch, eyes never leaving Alec’s, and fucks back in, the slap of skin on skin, his harsh breathing, the small moan that escapes him, all of it just for Alec.

“Fuck, please--” Alec tries to get a hand on his own cock, he’s so close, if he could just--

Magnus bats it away, and with the next thrust, twists Alec’s nipple.

Alec sobs, hips stuttering--

Magnus slams in two more times, pinching Alec’s nipple each time, but it’s the way he says _ Alexander _ when he’s about to come that tips Alec over the edge.

Magnus thrusts in a couple more times. Alec sees golden eyes watching his cock as it pulses, as he comes untouched, sees the ringed fingers as they drag through the come on his stomach, watches Magnus take them into his mouth, suck them clean.

“_Fuck_.”

Magnus leans in, kisses Alec deep and hot, letting him taste the bitter tang of his own come on Magnus’ tongue. They both moan into the kiss, their hips still grinding together. Alec is sensitive, but it’s still--

“Don’t-- stay,” he tells Magnus when he tries to pull out.

“I’ll be too soft to--”

“Please,” Alec begs. He just wants to-- he needs to--

Magnus pushes back in, looks at Alec and presses a finger inside of him, right next to his softening cock. Alec’s hips stutter and he throws his head back with a moan. Magnus keeps the finger in, making sure he’s pressing it against Alec’s prostate.

“_Please_,” Alec repeats, “please, _ more_.”

He hears Magnus moan, and then Magnus pulls out, both his cock and his finger, and Alec is just about to protest very loudly when three fingers enter him and in a second, all three of them are pressing on his prostate.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Magnus tells him, panting hotly, watching Alec’s face. He keeps up the pressure with his fingers and Alec starts rocking his hips into it in earnest. Magnus keeps his fingers still, doesn’t let Alec fuck himself on them, just keeps up the pressure for half a minute more and then starts pressing in even more, moving his fingers in small circles.

Alec is not sure if what he’s seeing is Magnus’ magic or _ stars_.

He thinks he’s hard again, or still, he’s not sure. The only thing he feels and sees and hears are _ them _ . His own breathing is wet and harsh, mixing with the way Magnus keeps swearing under his breath in a language Alec doesn’t speak. There’s no slap of skin now, no, but Alec’s nose is filled with Magnus’ cologne, with the smell of come and sweat. It’s heady, the way he can almost _ taste _ it in the air. He grabs for Magnus, who follows willingly, allows himself to be brought all the way down to Alec’s chest. He licks at Alec’s throat and comes in for a kiss with Alec’s sweat on his tongue.

This is _ theirs _, and Alec loves everything about it.

“Make me--” he moans as the fingers press in a little more, his cock now weeping fluid steadily, making it pool on his stomach, “make me come again, Magnus.”

“As you wish,” Magnus says, and adds more pressure, speeds up the circling of those clever fingers, and then he moves down Alec’s body, taking his cock down in one go. Alec feels the head of his cock hit the back of Magnus’ throat and comes with a sob, fingers clutching at Magnus’ hair, holding him down, hips bucking into his mouth. When Magnus swallows around him, Alec thinks he blacks out for a moment.

Magnus is kissing him, bitter and hot and deep, sticky fingers on Alec’s cheek. Alec takes stock of his body and manages to raise his arms enough to run fingers through Magnus’ hair.

They slow the kiss down, gentle it, and after a moment, they’re just lying pressed together, noses touching.

“Don’t clean us up yet?” Alec asks.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Magnus tells him, and then snaps his fingers and they’re covered by a thick duvet. Alec wasn’t cold, not really, but he’s pleasantly warm now, cozy here in their bedroom, with Magnus still all over him, looking at him like he’ll never get enough of this, of them.

Alec knows they’ll need to talk about all the things Magnus thought he was hiding so well, all the things they weren’t saying, assuming the other knew, but that can wait.

Now, he thinks, now he has a Warlock to cuddle.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
